Dancing From Mouthtips, to Perfume, to Macquoit Road

For those of us who don't remember (what's wrong with you?), "Hey Ya!" was a hit single by Outkast way back in 2003. It was kind of popular. I danced to it last night, a little after I told myself that I shouldn't care about things right now. I was worried at first, but I told myself that I needed to get to thinking about absolutely nothing at the moment. She wasn't there. And if she was, what would I even do? If I couldn't even let go of myself when there was no one looking for me, then what? So I danced, and I didn't feel awkward. I really got into whatever song was playing, even if I didn't know it, which was most of them, and this isn't about her anymore. I can dance for myself, now. Least, so long as there's a group I know. At least.
I found the mouthpiece I used for hookah last night in my sweater pocket. It smelled of ashy guava and jasmine and I remembered how much closer I am to falling into this place. I don't use mouthpieces because I'm sick or a germophobe, I use them just for this reason, remember the night before.
Her scent's still a phantom, though, presenting itself at times I don't think of her, when she isn't even here or around, whenever. I think I'll just have to dance harder and bike until my lungs are filled with the air of the marsh that Macquoit Road falls into.